So deep is the Night
by AmadErik
Summary: Christine is staying in Erik's house in those two weeks after the unmasking, and Erik needs a soul to ease his loneliness after a nightmare. The act and the consequences which follow Erik's desperate act. Leroux based oneshot.


It was the seventh night in a row she spent in the House by the lake, and Christine started to slowly get used to the house itself. In that week she learned each rooms and their locations, and started using them as if she was home as well, given the fact she had no other choices. Simply she was abducted and carried there against her will, and the master of this strange, but still ordinary house did not ask for her permission or her opinion about being literally dragged there. Yet she would have to lie if she said she felt unsafe in the house. She could not word why, but she really started to feel at home, despite everything, and get used to the house.

The host was still something she had to get used to, but it was no wonder, given the fact that man was a total stranger to her, with a horribly disfigured face and weird habits. A man who looks like a corpse and who sleeps in a coffin, and is entirely fascinated by new scientific researches and issues a normal person can't even answer is a bit more than alarming at first, and she was bothered by she did not seem to be able to predict how Erik will behave and what mood he will be in during the next few hours, minutes… even seconds. Yes, his mood was able to change to its literal opposite in a blink of an eye, and she did not know which one is the "real" man from among these chaotic feelings and patterns of behaviors. The one who silently stares at her while she was walking through a room? The one who talks to her in that awkwardly polite and shy manner and he is almost (oh, only that face should not be there, beneath that mask…), she would dare say almost likable? Or the one who constantly tries to cheer her up, entertain her by singing or showing her some magic tricks one can't explain, and after beams with a selfish child's pride, being able to show off? Or… and this possibility was the most frightful to think of… can he be that horrible person in reality who laughs at death, doesn't care about life or mortality, and states "one can get used to anything- even eternity"? Can it be life does not matter to him and he finds death funny? Can a man be so morbid and cynical? Or is it just a well- played role? What are those little disgusted remarks about "humanity" and "human race"? She had heard before about people who liked dark and black humor, but Erik seemed to mean those morbid statements seriously. This side of his was maybe a bit more frightening than his face. And Christine was also bothered about she could not see and predict Erik's thoughts. She wasn't a dull little creature, on the contrary, she was an educated person contrary to her gender and possibilities, but she felt herself so unbearably simple- minded compared to Erik, who showed a remarkable lexical and technical knowledge in every field possible and he had read books she did not yet consider to take in hand due to their complexity. Also, this man was much older than her. Of course, it was hard to calculate his technical age based on his looks, but his life experience and actions indicated he wasn't a young man at all. Maybe in his fifties, but sometimes Christine pictured him as a more than hundred years old immortal vampire. She sometimes feared he would ease his thirst by sucking her blood, but she shook her head in dismay right after. Such a silly superstition from an educated modern woman like her!

She did not wish to think too much about Erik while she was taking a bath and prepared for going to bed in the Louis-Philippe room, she merely wished to enjoy the bath which always refreshed her. It helped her to shut her mind off for the night and go to a dreamless, calm sleep. At least the weird man did not get his way into her dreams yet. She only could hope it will remain like this.

She did not bring the pair of scissors with her to the bathroom any more- she found out there was no need to do so with Erik - he was at least an honest and fair gentleman in this aspect. He never showed any sign of doing something improper toward her, and he did not try to touch her by a finger any more after she pulled away in disgust the other day when he offered an arm for her. She felt a bit ashamed of her earlier act nowadays, but she did not apologize to Erik about it. She felt it too awkward to mention. And she could not help but felt a hint of disgust, imagining Erik's cold and bony hand nearly touched her. She did not bring the scissors- yet she was still cautious, covering the mirror in her bathroom by a huge towel while she wasn't dressed. Maybe he could somehow see her. That man lives behind mirrors- it was enough just to think of her dressing room mirror and how he fooled her around from behind it earlier! Well, Monsieur, you clearly aren't enjoying any performances here.

Thankfully she could be alone, retreating in her room. Erik promised he will never step into that room without being invited or allowed in, which was a strange statement, regarding it was his house. But he gave her privacy, thank God.

Tiredly, she lay down in that huge sleigh bed, and tried to guess how many days she still had to spend underground. For how long shall she be imprisoned? When will Erik finally trust her enough after the unmasking to finally let her go?

With a loud sigh of annoyance, not wanting to think any more of the weird man before sleeping as she was afraid that face and the scary mind and bein of his might easily poison her sleep, she turned to her side and closed her eyes, trying her best to forget about her situation and get ready for a new day.

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He did not feel comfortable in that coffin any longer after he woke up from that nightmare in the middle of the night, after trying to sleep some, to be able to show his best possible form to his guest the next day. Of course, it was to be expected, the nightmare, he could never sleep without nightmares, which was why he loathed sleeping and tried to avoid it like the plague. But he was just a man and sometimes even he, the powerful Phantom and unstoppable genius would have needed to rest. He was afraid the lack of sleep might make him show his unbearable side to Christine, as he was rather grumpy and annoying if he did not sleep for some days, and he couldn't even bear himself then, how can he expect someone else, especially someone else so sweet and angelic to bear a monster near her?

Feeling utterly worn out still, he now resembled more of a grouchy toddler though, rather than the frightful Phantom, or the mysterious and scary figure Christine was so much afraid of. He was just trying to occupy his mind by reading and keeping himself awake by walking in his room up and down, but neither of these acts were successful in making him feel better. He yawned, sighed and moaned constantly, he was so much in the need of some sleep, but he did not want to climb back in that horrid coffin he chose as his bed.

Wandering restlessly he made his way into the salon, and the dining room. He had the slight idea he might try to play something to keep his mind woken and refreshed, but he was afraid he might wake up Christine as well, and God forbid he interrupts the slumber of such a beautiful angel! No…

Thinking of Christine, though, warmed his heart and he felt the need to see her at least. He closed his eyes to recall her sweet face, but he caught himself nearly falling asleep again right at the center of the dining room where he was helplessly standing, and did not want to and bear to do anything any more. Shall he take some damned laudanum at least? He can't go on like this.

But…

The medications are in the glass cabinet of the Louis- Philippe room where Christine was sleeping… he did not think of needing some medication after he took Christine down to his so- called home, and now he would have to get into the room to obtain the vial he needed. Shall he risk walking into the room and make Christine upset and scared…?

Maybe… if he was careful enough she wouldn't notice. He was able to walk softly as a cat, and he could see in the dark. He won't need the gaslight and he goes and returns fast and quietly. Very carefully he pressed the doorknob, and as slowly and silently as possible, he opened the door and stepped in. He even closed his eyes for some seconds after he shut the door, so that Christine won't see his glowing eyes in the dark if he succeeded in waking her up against his will. Standing there, holding his breath and keeping his eyes shut, he heard no noise indicating the dear girl had woken up, so he opened his eyes and snuck closer to the bed and wanted to pass it to reach the glass cabinet, but…

She was so beautiful, sleeping there, her face showing no emotion other than relaxed peaceful dreams she might have been dreaming. He did not know what she could dream of, the only thing he was certain about that those dreams weren't about him. He could only hope they weren't about the young sailor either. Yet he could not even stay jealous and bitter for a long time while he was examining Christine. It was so calming to look at her, as her chest was moving up and down to the rhythm of her breathing, and her sun- colored silky hair spreading on her pillow, on both sides next to her face. She was even smiling in her sleep, and those full cherry lips were sweetly hypnotizing him. He smiled involuntarily to the thought of those lips blending with his in a heartfelt kiss, and he did not have enough power to stop thinking about this any more. He sighed - both in tiredness and in delight, looking at the beautiful angel. Now he was able to admire her freely, as he knew she did not like if he was staring at her for too long when she was awake. He could not help that 'staring' though. He was sure she wouldn't be so scared about his glance on her for a long time if he spoke to her while that, but he did not know mostly what to say or do, so he was just looking at her without a word. Christine wasn't the only one scared of him silently admiring her - Mother would always send him away when he did it to her in his childhood as well.

"Stop staring at me with your evil yellow eyes, you small devil! Why are you examining me with such a disgust? Devil's bastard!"

He did not know if he was really looking like he was disgusted while nthe only emotion he wished to convey was adoration. He did never check it in a mirror…

But now Christine can't send him away, because she was sleeping. And what we don't know it doesn't hurt us.

He felt her presence calmed him and he sat down on the floor next to her side of the bed, just to collect his strength a bit to be able to go on with the task he wanted to do earlier. It was so good to watch her for a bit… what harm was done if he did so for a little while when she can't see him and he does not do anything improper?

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She opened her eyes and wanted to check the time on the Grandfathers clock in the corner of the room to see if it was yet early to get up and she was able to allow herself to sleep in, or it was already time to get dressed and prepared for the day awaiting her. Erik was fascinated with time and was painfully strict and exact regarding the daily routine, and she did not want to hear any remark or reproach of her being late.

It was already half past six, so she found out it was better to wake up and get ready. She will have to meet Erik in the drawing room at seven. Why that man has to wake up that early alwa…

She could not finish the sentence in her mind, as while she was mindlessly reaching down for her slippers she noticed something utterly unusual and frightening. With a small gasp she unintentionally lifted her feet back up on the side of the bed and slipped backwards so that she won't accidentally touch… She lifted her hand in front of her face in her discomfort and she, for a short time, hid back under the covers. Maybe wha she saw was just a bad dream, a hallucination. The house is full of mysteries and odd things, for example that ladder and the small window in her room she could not explain what purpose was it there for. Maybe she only started seeing things which weren't really there….?

Looking half curiously and half worriedly into that direction again, she still could see it.

That man. He was laying on the floor, thankfully not facing her, turning his back at the bed, seemingly sleeping on the floor like a dog by the bedside of its owner. His head was slightly slipped under the lower edge of the bed, and she could have touched him by a finger if she reached down to him. His knees were pulled up to his stomach and he was laying on his left arm, the right was laying on his side.

Why does he have to sleep here in this room when he promised he wouldn't step in unless being called? She did not call out for him during the night, that was for sure! His presence was certainly uncalled for and violating their compromise, and to be honest, it alarmed her. Did he do something terrible to her during her sleep? Did he TOUCH her while she was helplessly laying there in bed and…?

Oh no.

Let's not be so hostile, Christine, she thought to herself. At first, why would he lay down next to the bed after he did such a horrible act, instead of quickly leaving the place? Secondly… if he wanted to do something, he could have already done so, she was only a helpless woman, he is a strong man, she could not have effectively fought him. Moreover, he tried to always be a total gentleman to her before, and is clearly trying to make her love him, why would he ruin it all with such an evil act she could never forgive, and he sure knows this. And… she did not exactly know what can happen between a woman and a man in a scenario which required intimacy, but whatever it was, she was sure she would wake up to that. It certainly required touching her, and she did not feel those horrid icy cold hands on her body.

But then why is Erik there, laying on the floor next to the bed?

And.. the idea just hit her.

What if he is ill? Maybe the poor man walked in to ask for help and collapsed onto the floor? Was his act not a malevolent but a desperate one? He is an old man after all…

Worriedly, she leaned closer. She normally would not touch Erik, but she had to make sure he was all right, or at least… alive. No he shouldn't have died, oh God! One could easily think Christine started worriying over her sake in the first place, as if Erik was dead, she can never leave this place, but to her biggest surprise later, Christine now did not think of herself. If poor man died without a word to comfort him, without any help, like a rat in the cellars… on the floor…

\- Erik… - She whispered in front of herself, still not daring to touch that skeletal body, but as he still did not move, she collected her bravery to poke his shoulder by a finger.

\- Erik, can you hear me?

The next moment those jaundice-affected sickly colored eyes popped open, and Erik did a vehement and horrified experiment of sitting up as fast as possible. It wasn't successful though, as his head was slightly under the bed's side and he hit his head to it by full force and dynamism.

He did not bother too much about his terribly aching head though, he crawled out from under the bed like a scared animal, and like a spider, he ran on hands and knees, to leave the room as soon as possible.

Christine was sitting on the bed, confused, with a growing pity. She now understood Erik did not do any harm to her and was extremely frightened and humiliated by the whole situation. Even though she felt awkward as well, she knew she had to clear the issue up and somehow, if it was possible, comfort the poor man. No, it wasn't the nicest of act of him, but who can blame a lonely soul seeking for some badly needed comfort and companion? She quickly put on a dress she received from Erik, wanting to show him she loved his gifts, and walked out to the salon to search for the master of the house.

Erik wasn't in the dining room, nor was he in the salon, but it was to be expected. He sure hid in his room. She wanted to show him she wasn't angry with him and did not want the poor thing to fear seeing her, so she walked in Erik's room by her own free will. She couldn't see him though. It alarmed her, as she thought Erik got so scared of her that he might have done something terribly imprudent against himself. That thought filled her heart with horror.

\- Erik…? - She called out, being afraid of what she might find.

She heard some soft crying, which relieved her, and walking to that direction she noticed Erik under the sofa. He buried his face between his hands on the floor and was sobbing, his voice muffled by the rug.

\- Oh Erik, don't cry, please.

No answer but some more muffled cries and moans came as a response. After some more moments of crying, he slowly lifted up his head, carefully covering his face by his sleeve though, so that his love won't have to be disgusted of his pitiful excuse of a human head.

\- Erik is… so… so… sorry… He did not… do… anything… impolite… he swears… to God…

His voice wasn't like his. It lacked its divine power and even though it still had some angelic resonance in it, it was so soft and insecure Christine even heard it more high- pitched than usual and if she did not know she was talking to Erik, she would have mistaken it and would think it was only a scared child she heard talking. It wasn't such a wrong idea in itself either, as Erik, the powerful and unstoppable mad scientist was now hiding and crying under a couch like a five year old who just realized he did something wrong, and was afraid to come out, fearing Mother will beat him instantly.

Poor Erik, poor unhappy Erik. Christine thought to herself. This way of behaving after being caught doing something must be coming from some childhood traumas he had to suffer through. Well, she decided she won't use her usual tone with the obviously horrified and insecure strange man she started to like, or to be clear, understand in a way. There wasn't place for the independent artist woman right now, he did not need that. A scared child needs comfort, and the possibility of some reward. When she was small and was in the same situation, Papa would lure her out of her hiding place by playing the violin for her until she felt better.

\- Erik, will you come out if I sing for you, hm? - She asked with the smile of a loving mother.

\- Sing…? - Erik echoed, slowly and with an unsure slowness putting his skeletal right hand out from under his hiding place.

\- Yes, I sing whatever you want for you. - She nodded reassuringly.

\- And Christine won't get angry at Erik if he comes out? Won't Christine beat him for being bad?

The hand slipped back under the couch and Erik moved even closer to the wall.

\- Erik did nothing wrong. - Christine said softly. - Was he needing Christine?

\- Yes. - It was hardly audible, but Christine thought she heard Erik whispering this one word.

\- It isn't a bad act needing someone, Erik. I am honored you wanted my companion.

She decided she won't be bothering the issue of the impoliteness of Erik sleeping in the same room with her. She could have sworn it was an accident and Erik meant nothing wrong with it. The man slowly crawled closer, inch by inch, and ended up laying in front of the couch with Christine. He did not dare to touch her, or make eye contact with her, but at least he was out.

\- Would you give me my mask please? - He sighed softly.

\- I burned it, Erik, do you remember? - She replied with worry.

\- There is another one in my coat pocket. - He stated without any recognizable emotion.

\- We don't need it. - Christine replied calmly.

\- We do. - He closed his eyes and turned his head away with a stubborn fear. - Erik is ashamed… he has to… cover his face…

\- Erik, look at me. - The voice of the angel of a woman came from closer now, and as he dared to open his eyes he saw Christine was leaning close to him, standing by his side and she was smiling… an angel's forgiving and heavenly smile warmed his shameful and terrified soul, and again, he felt like his filthy being was dragged up to Heaven with her.

No other words were spoken, only Christine's soft humming filled the room which resembled a funeral home, and the poor man with the body of a living dead was silently and motionlessly kneeling in front of her, fixing his ugly yellow eyes filled up with tears of relief and adoration on her.


End file.
